


Unexpected and the Expected

by KountBlackula



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Anger, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blow Jobs, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff then Hurt, Hurt, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27209188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KountBlackula/pseuds/KountBlackula
Summary: Ramlethal walks on Sin popping one off to the thought of her, shit ensues.
Relationships: Sin Kiske/Ramlethal Valentine
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Unexpected and the Expected

Ramlethal has made a point of expecting the unexpected, since she became settled into civilization. She likes to think she's something of an expert at that, by now – still learning yet very little phases her for long, these days.

But this? This is unexpected on a whole new level.

She only came here to ask Sin about the schedule for tomorrow morning. Well, maybe for a hug, too, if she's being honest. Her world is changing and life is stressful after becoming rather, free-thinking? So forgive her if she wants an excuse to hug her closest friend every so often.

Her closest friend who she might be in love with. _Whatever_. Sin – just Sin.

With the benefit of hindsight, she can see how this... situation has arisen. It's late at night, so when she knocked at the Kiske's door just now, she did so quietly. She didn't want to wake him up if he was sleeping. And in retrospect, she really should have questioned why he seemed to _groan_ her name suggestively in response, and how he knew it was her, rather than just striding straight in here.

But she's gone and done it, now. In a quiet, swift motion -pushing open the door she's now staring right at Sin, lying naked on his bed, his hand wrapped around his cock, the other massaging his balls. The shaft of light spilling through the open doorway from the hall is illuminating a rather different kind of shaft, rock hard, distractingly large, leaking, and very much excited.

To reiterate, this is unexpected. But certainly not in a bad way, Ramlethal decides easily.

She struggles to make much sense of it. He's masturbating while groaning her name – that much is easy to understand on a logistical level, even if she's still nowhere near done processing it. But she just cannot _for the life of her_ fathom why he should need to masturbate at all. With his boyishly good looks and vibrant personality he could easily bed anyone in Illyria, she's pretty sure.

In fact, thinking about it, he could easily have her, if he ever actually got round to issuing the invitation.

It takes him a couple of seconds to realise she's here. Seconds in which he keeps working the length of his cock, cups and massages his balls and bares her name under a whimper, biting his lip as he grimaces with desperate arousal. It makes her twitch in pleasure - the same time unleashing something carnal within her. That confirms it, she thinks – he wasn't calling out in welcome. He didn't hear her quiet knock. He was genuinely groaning her name in pleasure.

Her heart races the moment she processes this.

She can see the exact moment he notices she's there. He blinks his eye open, panicked, and snatches his hand away from his cock. Erect and jutting above his hips, it sort of bobs there, in time with his awkward fidgeting as he fishes for something to say.

"I uh- Ram. Hey. Sorry. I didn't..." He trails off hopelessly, face turning shades of red. _Didn't what_ , she wonders. Didn't hear you knock? Didn't mean to groan your name? Didn't intend for you to walk in on me wanking over the thought of you?

She collects herself before he does. She's had a shock, sure, but it's a distinctly pleasant kind of a shock. So it is that she decides her open mouth can be put to far better use than simply standing here and gaping, stunned.

She approaches his bed slowly, deliberately. She settles herself between his legs, and reaches out a hand towards his cock. She came merely to ask about what was happening tomorrow and to get a hug, but her mind and the unconscious smile stuck on her face figures this is better.

She takes him into her mouth, and hears him give a filthy moan in response.

Yes. As surprises go, this is definitely the best one she's had in a while. If only all unexpected news was this good, she thinks. It never occurs to her to doubt or question what's happening here. It turns out the best friend she has something of an enormous crush on wanks whilst groaning her name, and that's fine. More than fine actually. Perhaps she can suck him off, maybe have him fuck on her too if lucky, ask her question, then go back to her room rather, much, _much_ happier than she came here.

At least, she thinks she can. But she's only been at it a couple of seconds when Sin stifles a moan, reaches a hand down to her head – not to pull her closer, deeper - like she wants, but to push her gently away.

"No, Ram. I shouldn't -" He mutters, or rather moans out, eyes averted. His face contorted in a mix of embarrassment and arousal, cheeks red like a beet.

 _Shouldn't what_ , she wonders. Ramlethal harbours a dislike this new habit he seems to have developed, of leaving sentences unfinished. He looks so vulnerable as he writhes there, so guilty, stopping himself from further indulging himself and it sort of breaks her heart. It's not news to her that he struggles with a sizeable quantity of self-loathing with his past and all, but this is one thing she doesn't think he needs to bother hating himself for.

"We can." She corrects him gently, hating how her voice sounds dreadfully monotone. "If you want to. I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to."

His eye flickers up to meet hers. "R-really? You want to?"

She nods. He hesitates another second mouth agape, then finally nods in turn, trying for a smile. And that looks a lot like an invitation to proceed, but all the same she hesitates. She really does want to respect his wishes. If he's genuinely not up for this, she doesn't want to push him. But if it's only his own guilt getting in the way, she thinks they ought to ignore that and take care of each other. That's what they do, isn't it?

He makes his feelings on the matter a little clearer. His fingers are tangling through her hair, and he's nudging her head back down towards his cock.

Great. That's that settled.

She's actually never done this before, having been an emotionless slave to the universal will beforehand, devoid of emotion. Luckily from dirty tales she's overheard from her elder sisters, she knows the theory. And she's a firm believer in logic and using her head, so as long as she follows the tips she's heard she should be fine, she figures. She concentrates carefully on taking him as far down her throat as she can, on using her hand to stimulate what she can't reach with her mouth, on listening to his response and adapting her approach accordingly.

It only takes her a couple of minutes to decide that it doesn't much matter whether she's well-practised at this or not. Sin seems to be having a good time no matter what she does, mouth agape groaning ever louder, body writhing in pleasure, his fingers now tugging gently at her hair.

"So good, Ram." He whimpers, breathless and urgent. "S-so hot."

She preens a little at this, even as she keeps working the length of his cock. He thinks she's hot. On a logical level, she supposes she must have realised that was true the moment she walked in here and figured out what was going on. Best friends don't fantasise about best friends unless they're also somewhat attracted, she's pretty sure. But all the same, it's good to hear it said out loud.

"You look perfect between my legs." He tries, this time. Looking up she sees Sin looking like he was in bliss, a state of total euphoria. Upon this sight she feels arousal flare between her own legs in response - a feeling unfamiliar to her yet _incredibly_ pleasing. Maybe they can get to that in a moment, she wonders.

She speeds up a little, growing in confidence. She focuses more of her attention on the head of his cock, her hand stroking the rest of his length. She hears his panting grow almost panicked in response, his occasional whimper calling for her name.

This is good, she thinks. This is affirming and encouraging and fuck, its just downright sexy. She doesn't even mind that he's clearly close to coming already, that this will all be over quickly. Because she's pretty optimistic that there will be so many more chances to try things like this in their future. She's convinced that when close friends start sleeping together, that means good things lie ahead.

In short, this feels special. And it feels like the start of something _fucking_ _awesome_.

He cries her name as he comes – actually _cries_ it, out loud, like something out of a heated dream, drool escaping his mouth. She finds that she's clamping her legs together, desperate for a little friction.

No, there's no urgency. She's sure her time will come.

After a couple of seconds he nudges her head away, his hand cupped around her cheek. His thumb sits just below her lips, and she wonders whether he's trying to wipe up a drop of come she missed or whether he just likes touching her there. Either way, it feels sweet, and tender, and however keen she is to attend to her own building arousal, she's more than content to stay here and enjoy this peaceful moment a few heartbeats longer. He begins to stroke her cheek with his thumb and it fills her with a longing warmth.

But then, suddenly, his hand falls away, it just ends. She looks up at his face in surprise and it's as if a switch has been flipped – all at once he's wearing his trademark cocky smirk - seemingly synonymous with everybody in Illyria.

He doesn't look like a guy who would stroke her face any more.

"Want me to return the favour?" He asks, light, a little arrogant.

She shakes her head, annoyed at the abrupt change of atmosphere, her arousal already ebbing away to be replaced by disappointment. She doesn't want him to _return the favour_ , as if they were just two acquaintances who enjoyed having casual sex. And it's not that the idea of casual sex isn't fun, but that's not what she wants from Sin. She wants him to acknowledge that what they just shared was incredible, that he's been moaning her name by night, that they're falling in love as they wait for the world to hurl another obstacle their way.

Fuck, how can _returning the favour_ even come close to that?

She feels herself seethe in anger, the familiar feeling of pure rage, destroying venom that accompanies her _in battle._ She fishes around for her usual calmness and pragmatism. She mustn't let her sinking heart and her temper and her shame show on her face. She forces herself into her usual deadpan, hoping it'll wipe that damn smile off his _handsome_ face.

"No, it's all good in fact. I actually came here to ask you about.. plans for tomorrow." She tells him, pulling away and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Huh. Damp. And salty. No, she mustn't dwell on that.

"You did?" He asks, that charming mask still firmly in place. He doesn't even make any attempt to cover himself – he just lies there, naked and grinning. She wants to growl at him in spite, to flash him an intimidating look of temperament in response, she wants to bear her sharp fangs at him, show that he's genuinely pissed her off."

She doesn't however. And she continues with her neutral facade.

"Yeah. I've noticed the dawn and evening patrols are becoming thanks to the Jellyfish Pirates. I was going to suggest you we continue our schedule with the others at midday."

"Sounds like a plan." He agrees easily.

"Good."

There's an awkward silence. She hates that, because she's pretty certain that no silence between her and Sin has ever been awkward before.

And yet it endures. She hates everything about this new change of atmosphere.

She hates it.

"I guess I'll be going." She says, trying to push aside her emotions, the conflict of sentiment within herself. To be reticent. That's what she does, right? She's good at it, in fact. So why is it such a struggle right now?

"Sure. Yeah. If you're sure I can't return that favour?"

Just for a moment, she hesitates. Just for a heartbeat, she wonders whether she can see his smirk start to falter. Her amber eyes glance at him, and away from him.

No. Must be a mistake. It's very dark in here, after all.

She bats him away with a careful word or two, and strides back out the door.

"Goodnight."

**Author's Note:**

> I'll continue this in like, 10 years.


End file.
